Remember Me As a Time of Day
by nicodemusfleur
Summary: In this moment, strangely for the first time, Blair realized that pretending that he was ever only a distraction from her world was ludicrous. He couldn’t distract her from her world if he was her world." An AU interpretation of Chuck & Blair's journey.
1. December 17th, 2008: Prologue

_A/N: This is my first fanfiction, though I have been an avid reader for the past five or six years, so __**please**__ let me know what you think – constructive criticism is very welcome! I'm not entirely sure where this story is going, but I'll try and update as often as possible (hopefully my inspiration will be available)._

_Summary: An AU story post 'Victor/Victrola' in which Blair and Nate never broke up, but she and Chuck did sleep together, and subsequently started having an affair. _

* * *

"_Take me to you, imprison me, for I,_

_Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,_

_Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me."_

_ - John Donne, Holy Sonnet XIV_

* * *

"_**Remember Me As a Time of Day"**_

**Prologue**

_-December 17__th__, 2008-_

Everything was a mess.

As she stood unmoving in front of the Palace Hotel in the dead of winter, she couldn't help but reflect on all the times she had stood in this exact spot. It was as if her entire life had consisted of _her_ being the knight in shining armor…and only in this moment, the moment right before she saved herself, did she acknowledge that fact. Before, she was the damsel in distress. If not in action, certainly symbolically. Blair knew that she could probably make Darth Vader cower under the weight of her scathing mouth, but before, that fact was a secret. Before, it didn't define her.

Before, when she was a little girl, standing in this spot was nothing more than what it appeared to everyone else. A two-foot square of sidewalk in front of her future wedding location. Back when this building meant nothing, back when it was just an expensive hunk of rock that housed her favorite crepes in the city.

Before.

Before, when her dreams were filled with visions of being the next Mrs. Archibald. It was curious to look back on now. She had been so sure that he was the one for her. He had swept her off her feet the very moment she had seen him. He was perfect. With his gorgeous eyes and oblivious smile, she had vowed (to anyone that would listen, and a few that didn't want to) that her and Nate would marry and live happily ever after. And here they were. Here she was. Over a decade after she had first laid eyes on her one and only, she was on the threshold of coming to the rescue of her _one and only_.

Because her eyes no longer swam with visions of happily ever after. Because she was on the brink her life, with her Prince Charming standing by her side, and yet all she wanted to do was run away. Because even her current state of sleeplessness and emptiness was more comforting than a thousand smiles from her dear Nathaniel. Because she was no longer a little girl, and this silly spot on a silly street meant something.

But most of all because this was no longer _before_. This was after.

This was after she accomplished everything she ever wanted. This was after she had the boyfriend, the family, the social status, and the future. This was after she willingly threw that all away in order to put her heart in the hands of a man who could barely stand up himself. This was after she became a liar and a cheater and a thief.

_This_ moment was no longer filled with reflections of her wonderful outfit, or the upcoming event taking place in the building in front of her. This moment was now a waste of time.

This moment was no longer important, because the most important person in the world was broken, and she had to put him back together without shattering everyone else.

Deep breathe. Right foot. Left foot. Repeat. One step at a time.


	2. November 16th, 2007: Part 1

**Chapter 1**

_-November 16__th__, 2007-_

It was taking all she had not to slam her idiot boyfriend's head against the door of the limo. Thankfully she was Blair Waldorf, and not a doormat.

"If you don't wipe that idiotic, stoned look off of your face, I will throw you out of this limo before you can utter a sound," she snapped at Nate, causing him to spill his glass of champagne all over his pants.

"What the hell, Blair?!" his face twisting unpleasantly, trying fruitlessly to mop up the bubbly mess with his hands.

She fixed him with her best glare and explained, "I find it amazing that no matter what emotion you have on your face, it consistently seems to piss me off."

"Did you ever think that maybe it's not my face that pisses you off, but the fact that your being a complete bitch?" he spat out harshly.

She tried to look hurt.

The first time someone had called her a bitch she had been eleven, and Adrianna Marks had yelled it at her after she "spilled" a Gatorade all over the girl's new Prada flats. To everyone else it was an insult, but it still sounded like a well-earned compliment to her ears. Almost like a way to measure her accomplishments.

Apparently Nate bought her lame attempt at offense hook, line and sinker, because the moment he looked at her face, his eyes softened as he quietly whispered, "Blair…"

She looked up at him, momentarily startled that he had so easily bought her ruse. Part of her was giving congratulations for yet another Oscar worthy performance, while the other much less vocal, but somehow more powerful side of her was lamenting at a lost connection with Nate.

She honestly couldn't remember any other time in her life when she felt at such a loss. When Serena left, she cried (privately) for weeks. When her father left, she had drank herself into such a stupor that she had fallen asleep on the sidewalk outside of Butter. Whenever her mother made some tasteless and vindictive remark about her sub-par appearance, she purged. When she found out about Nate and Serena, she publicly humiliated Serena, and felt better (if only for a moment). But now…now, everything was different. She felt as if something had been irrevocably damaged between her and Nate, and yet here they were. Yet again she was hiding in plain sight.

He was her Prince Charming. Her knight in shining Armani. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a partner, but until now had never realized just how out of sync they really were.

Maybe she was being silly. Maybe it was all in her head. But as she sat here watching him grimace at her downtrodden expression, she couldn't help but think _'Is this it?'_. Was this really the man, and with it the life, that she wanted? To constantly be lying to his face, and have him not even know the difference?

"Blair?"

She looked towards him again, vaguely recalling his voice amongst her thoughts in the past few minutes.

"Have you even been listening to a word I've said?"

"Not really," she stated plainly, but upon seeing the angry roll of his eyes, she continued, "Sorry. I'm just…thinking, I guess. I lost myself for a moment." Even as the words left her mouth, she stared at him, hoping and praying with all her heart that he would see that she hadn't lost herself at all. Quite the opposite.

Instead, he nodded sympathetically, then looked down at his lap and gave an audible sigh.

"No, I get it. I think we've both been a little lost lately."

"Yeah," she replied, and once again turned her head in preparation to lose (find) herself once again.

"But really Blair," he interrupted her, however unknowingly. "I know I've been unfair to you lately. You were…so forgiving about Serena and me, and all I've done since then is give you a hard time about the way you're putting us back together.

"It's just, our whole lives have been planned out ever since we were seven, and I guess I'm just starting to question whether this is the life I want, ya know?" He was making puppy dog eyes at her again, and in her current state of mind that face was grating to say the least.

"No, Nate," she said, once again surprising herself. Because she did know. But her life was a mess, so why not make his miserable as well?

"No, I don't know what you mean. I know what I want, Nate. I want you to stop staring at my best friend! I want you, for once, to just let me all the way in, for once just confide in me, and don't run away!"

Her exasperation with their perpetual state of going nowhere was coming out loud and clear, and _for once_ she wasn't being his Blair. His Blair was sweet, and understanding. To hell with understanding.

By this point her breathing was getting heavier, and she could feel her eyes welling up with tears, but crying was not an option at the moment. '_Save it for later, Blair' _she told herself.

"God, Nate…" she trailed off, hanging her head down in an effort to get a control over her wavering strength. After a few moments with no sound but the steady _in and out_ of their combined breathing, she lifted her head and studied his somber expression.

"How did everything get so messed up?" Nate asked, his eyes flickering to meet hers.

She chuckled lightly, "Like you said, I guess we both just got a little lost."

He smiled back at her, "Yeah, well the first step to recovery is acknowledging you have a problem, right?", completely missing the sad irony of his statement, which was not lost on Blair.

Blair's smiled faded, "You know, everything will work out in the end."

Nate's eyes questioned her statement, and reaching out to grab his hand she elaborated, "About your dad. Even with everything that happened tonight, it'll all work out."

"Maybe you're right…" he said uncertainly.

"Of course I'm right, I'm Blair Waldorf," she replied automatically, lightening the mood in the car considerably as they both shared a laugh at her egotistical statement.

"Look, Nate. We've been through a lot together…and I think we just need to be more honest and open with each other, okay?"

He once again flashed her the smile that used to make her weak in the knees, and replied "I think we can handle that."

Sometime during their conversation she had drifted to the seat next to him, and their hands had become entwined. Silence filled the car as they both dropped their (forced on her part) smiles, and proceeded to stare out their respective windows at the passing lights. The time for words had passed, and the quietness greeted them like an old friend (who visited rather often).

In the past few weeks she had repeatedly come across the terrifying thought that the world really was going to tear her and Nate apart. Scarcely even admitting to herself that she may be about a thousand times happier without him, the thought barely survived a few seconds before being stomped out by the memory of years of commitment and lo…and…expectation. No, love. Of course there was love.

Why would she spend ten years with someone if she wasn't in love with them? '_Well, lets just save that question for another time…like, never' _she thought. So she silently concluded that there was love, just no words. Not anymore, apparently.

Sadly, this kind of resigned silence was not new. Even before all of their problems had come out into the light, both of their minds were too far away to even lamely discuss the weather. He was always thinking of Serena, videogames, getting high, or a combination of the three. She was always thinking of her weight, crushing an enemy, Yale, or desperately wishing that she could stop pretending. The reason people thought Nate was such a do-do bird was due to the fact that he hadn't quite learned the art of daydreaming without looking like you're sleeping with your eyes open. But Blair knows him better than that. She remembers often thinking that Nate's brain was like a sponge. Filled with lots of holes, but somehow able to soak up all information related to her shiny best friend. She'd long before been resigned to the fact that all people who met Serena were going to immediately forget that she existed, but having her boyfriend completely enamored with her as well was a less than ideal situation.

She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts when the limo's wheel hit the curb while pulling up in front of Victrola. Blair shook her head lightly, attempting to physically shake off her emotional baggage, and squeezed Nate's hand in a sudden wave of affection and anticipation.

Nate looked at her with amused eyes, laughing lightly as her eyes lit up with excitement, and her mouth twitched in an effort to keep a ridiculous grin off of her face.

"What are you so happy about?" Nate laughed.

She took a deep breathe, and couldn't help but let out a laugh as the driver opened the door for them. Nate stepped out first, extending his hand to her as she exited the car. She could hear the pulse of the music from inside the club, and amidst the throngs of people, spotted Chuck coming out to greet them.

She turned to Nate, eyes glinting with some emotion she had never experiences, and answered with a smirk, "It's nothing. I just have a feeling tonight is going to be a good night."


	3. December 17th, 2008: Part 1

_A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update! I've had the first paragraph of this written since I wrote the last chapter, but life got in the way of finishing it off. Oh, and for those of you who were looking forward to seeing what happened at Victrola, don't fret, I'm planning of having every other chapter be a flashback, and all the others be in "present" time. I have alot of ideas for this story bouncing around in my head, so it's just a matter of how long it takes me to organize them, but I hope to do a chapter a week, maybe more during the holidays.  
_

_Thank you sooo much for the reviews!! As a first time author on this site, it was rather flattering, and definitely gave me the extra push I needed to pump this chapter out. Enjoy!  
_

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed._

-Carl Jung

* * *

_-December 17__th__, 2008-_

The density of her love was overwhelming. Any high school student knows that density is equal to mass divided by volume, but Blair found that equations such as that one had limits, and there seemed to be no end to the feeling evoked within her at even the thought of Chuck. She had also found that with this inexplicable feeling, comes a world of pain. Like the stories of long lost twins who garner identical injuries even while miles apart, being so tightly connected to another human being was unhealthy by any normal standards. And yet, to deny the ache in her core that drew her to him over and over again would be far more masochistic than any torture they inflict upon each other. So when Chuck was gallivanting around to God knows where, on a path of deliberate self-destruction, every part of her was burning.

She wondered if he realized that in the process of destroying himself, he was also destroying her. In the past few weeks she had all but crumbled to the ground. Her hair was stringy and oily, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and in her haste she had thrown on only a simple nightgown, and a heavy winter coat. After weeks of hiding out in her room, placating Nate's incessant nagging with stories of how she had '_really bad cramps this month'_, and how '_it's too cold to do anything anyways_,' she was finally going to get some relief.

When Nate had called her this morning to inform her that Lily had finally tracked Chuck down, and had him delivered to the Palace in once piece, her heart skipped a beat. Trying to subdue her urge to either throw up, or jump up and down while clapping, she and Nate quickly agreed to meet at the Palace in an hour to assess just how dire the situation was. After a quick exchange of _'I love you'_s, Blair ran a brush through her hair, and got dressed in under two minutes. (Only Chuck had the ability to make her get ready in either under two minutes, or over four hours. Their relationship was full of extremes.)

Heading up the elevator to Chuck's suite over a half hour early was a strategic decision, and for everyone's benefit. She would be able to show actual affection for Chuck, and Nate wouldn't have to watch. At this point she assumed that Chuck would be too out of it to care either way. Unfortunately for her, some snot nose kid had pushed all of the buttons in the elevator, so she was stuck with five people watching the doors open and close on each identical floor. After what felt like two lifetimes (but was really only five minutes – but even that was too long), Blair finally arrived on Chuck's floor. She practically trampled the remaining people in the elevator, and raced as quickly as she could towards 1812. Coming face to face with the brass numbering on his door, so promptly pulled out the key card he had given her months ago, before abruptly pausing, a grimace overtaking her features.

How the thought had never reached her before - that he could be in there with someone. Or more than one someones. In her short lifetime, Blair had seen Chuck kiss an incomprehensible amount of women. But that was before; and as much as she knew that he had probably slept with a bunch of hookers and such in the past few weeks, knowing was very different from seeing.

Shaking the scarring images out of her head, she opened the suite door, fully expecting to have to call security to remove an infestation of whores, but instead finding an eerie stillness similar to that of an abandoned building. Stepping into the stale room, she shut the door quietly behind her and turned towards the almost pitch black suite. If it hadn't been for the random array of alcohol bottles and various illicit substances littering the surfaces, Blair would have sworn that no one had stepped foot in there for years. Tiptoeing further into the room, she heard no noise except for the steady hum of the heater, and the far off dripping of the bathroom sink. Through the darkness, Blair felt the air crackle and caress her skin. He was here.

A painful sound broke the silence like a gunshot in the night. Blair's face fell white and twisted at the gut-wrenching sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom, and as though a switch turned on in her brain, she snapped into action.

All thoughts of insecurities, of the future, of the past, fell away. Everything outside of that room no longer mattered nor existed; the only tangible evidence of her impact on this world was huddled on a cold tile floor, expelling all evidence of his recent debauchery.

This feeling was not at all how she'd imagined it to be. Like most young girls, Blair was a starry eyed romantic, confident in her assessment of the beauty of the world. She was positive that good triumphed over evil, that her Prince would come to her rescue, and most importantly, that they would all live happily ever after. Her current reality stemmed from the learned knowledge that evil was often victorious (mostly due to her assistance), her Prince Charming had evolved into a Dark Knight, and at the moment there was no light at the end of the tunnel, there was only the darkness and her.

It took her less than a second to react to his declared presence, and less than five to appear to the entrance of the en suite bathroom. Five seconds, or five years – in the midst, both would have been deemed applicable adjectives. In the years to come, through all of the hurt and pain, she would always keep the constant thought that those five seconds were the worst of her life. Sure, greater tragedies would occur, but in those five seconds her entire world was changing, and the pain of being ripped out of the past and thrust into the future was sharp.

Almost tripping over her three-inch heels, Blair fled towards the bathroom in her panic. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks, though she couldn't recall the moment she started crying. Yet here she was, standing at the threshold of her own personal hell, silently crying her eyes out. Upon arriving to the scene that awaited her, Blair heard a painful, guttural noise, only to realize seconds later that the sound originated from her own throat in response to the dead man before her.

She could see his shoulders heaving in an effort to breathe, and would have sworn that his heartbeat was echoing off of the marble walls surrounding them, but there was not doubt that the bag-of-bones hunched over the toilet was not alive. Standing in the doorway like a lame duck, Blair felt as if she had been turned to stone.

_I'm ill prepared for this._

That was all she could think. She had never gotten a 'B' in her entire academic career. She was at the top of her class, had gotten near perfect SAT scores, and in sophomore year had even tutored flailing seniors in French. But right now she felt like suing Constance Billard for not teaching her how to bring someone back to life. If she (or more accurately, her parents) were paying forty thousand dollars a year for her to attend, they should better prepare her for the life of an Upper East Side teenager. They should teach students how to properly administer a banana bag, pass out condoms starting in eighth grade, and have a one-on-one class specifically designed to teach you what to do in case you find the love of your life puking his guts out from a post-dead father drug tour of eastern Asia.

On shaky knees, Blair walked towards him, listening to his breathing and the sound of her heels on the marble floor. She felt her muscles go lax, and practically collapsed next to him under the weight of the air. Even with all of the commotion and noise, she wasn't entirely sure that he even knew she was here.

Seconds later, she saw the muscles in his back quickly tense up before he propelled towards the toilet once again, the nauseating smell wafting through the room. Whether he realized she was there before, she didn't know, but he certainly was aware as her left hand came up and rubbed small circles in the center of his twitching spine. Even when there seemed to be nothing left in him, still his body continued to try and erase the damage of the last few weeks.

By the time Chuck's body finally relaxed, Blair was already wrapped around him, her front pressing up against his back. Her nose was flush against the side of his neck, and she was whispering useless words of comfort into his skin. His body got heavier with each passing second as he recoiled from the toilet, and rested on her unstable form.

There was only silence, and the reassuring feel of his heartbeat thrumming against her chest. As he leaned further back, she wrapped her arms around his front and anxiously latched onto his hands. If she had had any strength or energy left, she could have hugged him more tightly, but instead she let her arms hand loosely around him and slid her fingers in between his.

After a few minutes she felt his hand tighten around hers in an inevitable recognition of her presence, but did not expect the accompanying sound of his voice.

"Blair?" he whispered, as though if he said it any louder she would disappear and he would find himself alone again.

At the sound of his scratchy voice, Blair found the need to pull him tighter towards her, almost in an effort to occupy the same space as him. Finding her throat temporarily incapable of making sound, she responded simply with a quiet nod, and a self-indulgent kiss against his neck.

With her affirmation, the invisible barriers between them fell away. He grasped tighter onto her hand, and started to shake in silent sobs. The pretense for strength was gone. She pulled him lightly backwards, leaning herself up against the wall, and him against her. She slowly brought one of her hands to run through his hair as he let the reality of his father's death sink in.

Blair was overwhelmed. Over the past few years, even before her understanding of her own feelings for Chuck, she had always been able to read him, but never before had she felt such empathy for him. In her own island of emotional unavailability, she had often sympathized him for his unfortunate parental situation, but never before had she been able to feel his emotions rippling off of him so clearly. Even in their most intimate of moments, when they were at the height of their physical and emotional connection, both of them were still in control.

He was Chuck Bass. Even when he seemed out of control, she had always had the inkling that he was more aware of the details of his environment than the most sober person in the world. And in their relationship, certain walls were necessary. Control over your emotions was the most important rule.

Sure their reasons for the walls were different, but the basic principles applied to both her and Chuck. She could never give up control, because he was Chuck Bass. Womanizer and notoriously un-monogamous. He injected, snorted, smoked and drank. If she let him capture the last piece of herself that he hadn't already stolen, he could completely destroy her. Though she was sure that if the circumstances of their situation had been different he would have changed his ways for her, she had no right to ask that of him this reality. If she had to appear to the world as Ice Queen of the Upper East Side, girlfriend of Nate Archibald, then she had no right to ask him to change anything. They could never get too close, because then the careful balance that they had concocted would be threatened.

That's what they had said. That they could never get too close. Yet every moment together was a moment where they ignored their own rules. Every second. Consensus has finally been reached though. They cannot get any closer. It would be impossible.

In this moment, strangely for the first time, Blair realized that pretending that he was ever only a distraction from her world was ludicrous. It was impossible.

He couldn't distract her from her world if he _was _her world.


	4. November 16th, 2007: Part 2

**Chapter 3**

**- - - - - - - - - -**

"_You write such pretty words,_

_But life's no storybook,_

_Love's an excuse to get hurt,_

_And to hurt._

_Do you like to hurt?_

_I do, I do._

_Then hurt me…"_

_ -Lover I Don't Have To Love by Bright Eyes_

- - - - - - - - - -

_-November 16__th__, 2007-_

She was most definitely out of her comfort zone. Or her mind. One or the other.

Walking through the double doors of Victrola with Nate and Chuck trailing in behind her, Blair felt her bones stiffen not two feet from the entrance. She was vaguely aware of Nate remarking that he was going to get them drinks, but her focus was elsewhere. She stood still as a statue, watching with fascination at the sultry hip movements of the dancers on stage, and soon felt her own hips echo the act without her approval.

The scent of the club was a heady mix of vodka, cigar smoke, and sex. She felt as though she had walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone, for she could not recall another time in her life that she had felt this way. Felt like something foreign was invading her, and was determined to ruin her reputation with one too many inappropriate hip movements. Letting her eyes gaze around the room, she soaked up the sights like a sponge. Though she had seen the building not twenty-four hours earlier, under the spell of darkness it truly transformed. The walls thrummed in accordance with the beat of the music, the lights flashed, and she transformed. Victrola had created the perfect environment for escapism, and boy did she want to escape.

"Did no one tell you that that dress makes you look like you just stepped off the Mayflower?" a smoky voice interrupted her thoughts, the sound somehow in perfect harmony with the smells and sights around her.

Ignoring her own reaction to his breath on the back of her neck, and the very un-lady like images it conjured, Blair turned towards Chuck, unable to keep her face from morphing from "Blair, the perfect, Upper East Side Princess", to "Just Blair." Being the pain in the ass that he was, Chuck didn't even have the decency to follow in his best friend's footsteps and be completely clueless to her emotions.

"Actually, I retract that statement," he said firmly, in reaction to the foreign look on her face. Seeing the questioning look in her eyes, Chuck continued in that sinful tone, "You now look like a Mayflower passenger who's thinking about sex."

Rolling her eyes, she planted an indulgent smirk upon her face and replying, "Ten points for you, Bass. I was just thinking about how much I'd like to take a _ride_ in your limo."

At her response, both Chuck and her eyes narrowed slightly at her uncharacteristic words, and if she hadn't been thinking about said limo ride before, the phantom images were certainly flashing before her eyes now. Her words had put both in a trance, and staring into his eyes she was sure he was watching the same scenes as her. Time had slowed, and everything was quieter, yet still unbearably too loud. They were standing much too close.

Blair flicked her eyes back and forth between his endlessly dark irises, and his suddenly irresistible mouth. A rational part of her conscious was yelling at her (in a tone identical to her mother's voice) to run far, far away. She could imagine little 'DANGER!' signs and blinking lights going off in her head, but the combination of the atmosphere and the intoxicated feeling drifting over her body caused her to temporarily ignore the warning signs, and instead let her body temperature rise while staring lustily into his eyes.

Blair didn't know if it was the club itself, or her recent dissatisfaction with feeling merely _comfortable_ with Nate. Perhaps it was that thing. Beneath the surface.

Her and Chuck had been friends a long time. Ever since they teamed up in kindergarten to get Ms. Danvers fired for forcing them to play in an unsanitary sandbox. He really was the only person who understood her dark side. Nate liked to believe that the Blair that bought his sweaters and held his hand was the only Blair that existed. Whenever he saw a girl running away from Blair and her posse crying, he brushed it off as Blair just having a bad day.

But Chuck wasn't Nate.

Due to the fact that Nate had sex with Serena, and frequently made comments (however innocent) about her weight, Nate probably didn't deserve his Blair. But if she was honest with herself, which she rarely is, if she were _herself_ around Nate, they would be broken up within a week. Nate, while still materialistic, cares about people in need. He rarely gets angry, hates being mean to people, and generally is a good and fair person.

If he met her right now, they would not get along whatsoever.

But Chuck wasn't Nate. And right now, Chuck was looking at her with a look miles away from disappointment. He looked vindicated, curious, and above all, turned on. The voice in the back of her head once again reminded her of the absurdity of her current situation, referencing that Nate would be back any minute with their drinks, and that she shouldn't be having eye-sex with Chuck Bass.

That voice in the back of her head seemed to have a friend upstairs, because at that moment Blair was brought back to the real world by the sound of her oblivious boyfriend's voice asking if her and Chuck were fighting yet again.

Luckily, they both seemed to recover quickly (though from what, she didn't know), and convert their intense stare of attraction into one of revulsion. This was certainly a good time to be thankful that both her and Chuck were excellent liars.

"Fighting? Us? Never," she said, faking (too easily) a happy tone. Smiling at Nate, she continued, "I was just asking Chuck what company he planned to higher in order to decontaminate this place after tonight."

Easily placated, and apparently forgetful of the intimate look his best friend and his girlfriend had been sharing when he arrived, Nate laughed at Blair's comment and raised his hand to ruffle her hair. Nate turned away from Blair towards the scantily clad women on stage, yet again oblivious to the horrified look on Blair's face at being treated like his puppy.

With Nate temporarily distracted, Blair let her eyes drift to see a knowing smirk planted on Chuck's face. Letting out a small huff of indignation, Blair hit Nate on the arm, breaking his trance.

"What?" Nate said, briefly turning his eyes towards Blair, before quickly looking back towards the stage at a buxom, blond dancer.

Blair glared at Nate, yet again slapping him on the arm.

Finally turning completely towards Blair, Nate half yelled, "What!?" before quickly realizing that Blair's expression was one of the few he could actually read, and it wasn't favorable to him.

"Some advice," Blair snapped at him, "One, don't _ever _pat me on the head again. I am not a puppy. Two, at least have the decency to not completely zone out on the Serena clone on stage while I'm standing right here. Three, I thought you went to get drinks? Due to your idiocy, I'm in major need of alcohol, or are you incapable of pulling off even that simple task?"

Blair watched as he looked sheepishly down at the floor, wrongly assuming that all of Blair's questions were rhetorical.

"Well I can't help you with Nate's fascination with blondes, but I can help you with the getting drunk," Chuck stated, quietly laughing to himself at how uneven Blair and Nate's relationship really was.

"Well, at least the alcohol will make me forget about the first problem," Blair replied, letting a smile out.

Chuck smirked, and wrapping his arms around both her and Nate's shoulders, he steered them towards the antique couch directly in front of the stage.

"There's nothing a little alcohol can't help," Chuck said as he poured both of them a glass of champagne, while reaching for his own glass of scotch.

Blair took her seat in next to a still quiet Nate, and settled back against the comfortable fabric and watching the women on stage. She found it strange that even though she was in such a vulgar, classless situation, she couldn't help but feel…something indescribable. Like she had been transported from her body into someone else's. Someone who didn't have all the hang-ups and frustrations that came with being Blair Waldorf. Someone who could get drunk in a glorified strip joint and no one would care. Someone who could run, and laugh, and scream in the middle of the street and not worry about getting smeared all over Gossip Girl. And as Chuck had said, Victrola was the epitome of escapism, and tonight she would escape from herself.

Giving up all pretense of being a lady, Blair tilted her head back and downed the rest of her champagne in on gulp. Turning towards Chuck and thrusting her empty glass towards him, she ordered in a sloppier than normal speech, "Champagne is for New Years, and sipping. Get me something more appropriate."

"And what exactly made you think ordering me around like a servant would work?" Chuck responded, a smirk of amusement in his eye. Shaking his head a second later, he reached out grabbing her glass from her hand, brushing her fingers with his in the process.

Blair was finding it difficult to breathe as Chuck's face leaned in towards her, whispering inches away from her lips, "Are you sure that you can handle it, Waldorf?"

Trying desperately to remain composed, reminding herself furiously that her boyfriend was sitting on the other side of her, Blair responded calmly, "I guess we'll find out Bass," planting a smirk on her lips and displaying a confidence she did not feel.

"I'll take a gin martini," she continued, ending their second 'moment' of the night by turning back towards the stage. Seeing Chuck laugh and stand up out of the corner of her eye, Blair again reminded herself that her boyfriend was still indeed sitting next to her, and for that matter had been there the entire time.

Partly hoping that he would yell at her or Chuck for being seconds away from making out right in front of him, she slated her eyes to her left only to find him pouring himself another glass of champagne, eyes locked firmly on the mediocre dancers on stage. Rolling her eyes at his obliviousness, Blair crossed her arms and let out a large sigh.

Resting her head on the back of the antique couch, Blair became mesmerized by the reflection of the lights bouncing off of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. What felt like and hour later, but in reality was only about a minute, Blair felt a buzzing against her left thigh. Tilting her neck back to its normal position, she lighting hit a dazed Nate on the arm, drawing his attention away from the stage.

"Your phone is ringing," she said lightly.

"Huh?" Nate replied, leaning in closer to hear her over the noise of the music.

"I said, your phone is ringing!" she yelled in his ear, causing him to slightly wince. Completely missing Blair's satisfied expression, Nate reached into his pocket quickly.

"Hello?" he said, covering his other ear with his hand, trying uselessly to drown out the avalanche like noise of the club.

Blair watched as Nate's face fell into a comical pout at whatever the caller said, replying, "But mom, Chuck really needs me here tonight!"

Blair lightly snorted at Nate's remark, and slightly chided herself for not forcing him to remain home with his mother in the first place. Even with all the strife between Blair and her mother, when her father left, she certainly didn't ditch her mother for a club opening. If nothing else, on the Upper East Side, family loyalty resided above all. At the resigned, and slightly guilty look on Nate's face at the moment, Blair guessed that his mother had made a similar argument.

Hanging up the phone, Nate returned it to his pocket, and glanced apologetically towards her.

"Hey, I'm really sorry, but my mom needs me home tonight," Nate said as he turned fully towards her.

Blair smiled slightly, "That's fine. Your family needs you right now, and that's more important than a party."

"Are you sure?" Nate replied.

"Of course I'm sure. I'll have Chuck give me a ride home, and I'll see you at my birthday tomorrow night," Blair concluded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Nate flashed her his knee-melting smile, worrying her a bit when her knees stayed quite solid. Dismissing her silly thought, she reached out giving him a simple kiss on the cheek as he stood up. Taking one last sip from his glass, Nate turned towards her quickly to say goodbye.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, continuing when he saw her nod. "Cool. Oh, and tell Chuck sorry that I couldn't stay."

"Don't worry," she replied, "I've got it all under control."

"Just don't have too much fun. You know how Chuck can get sometimes," Nate laughed.

"Seriously Nate, just go take care of your family, I can handle Chuck," Blair replied, with a bit more venom in her words.

"Alright, alright," She heard him mutter under his breath as he gave her an impersonal nod, and then quickly disappeared into the crowd.

As she watched him walk away, she felt like she had a rare insight into the future. A strong feeling of loss overcame her, an overwhelming sense that this would be the last time that she would see him. Not morbidly, as if he was going to die and she'd never see him again, but strangely as if _this_ her wouldn't. That somehow everything would change, and with it a new Blair would emerge. That maybe in another place, in an alternate reality, she would have gone with him and everything would have stayed relatively the same. He would be in love with Serena, and she would be unhappy. But here and now, something changed. Yes, he was still in love with Serena, but in this moment, she was not unhappy. She felt alive. She felt the chains of her perfect life fall away as he exited the building, and watched them cower in the shadow of her freedom.

"Where'd Nate go?" a silky voice questioned, ripping her from her musing. Chuck had finally (though he really wasn't gone _that_ long) returned, complete with her martini and a fresh glass of scotch.

"He had family stuff to deal with," she stated, eagerly stretching her arms upwards to receive her drink.

"Ah, ah, ah," Chuck teased as he sat down next to her, holding her martini out of her reach. "Don't you have any manners Waldorf? After I go through all the trouble of having the bartender re-make your drink twice because of its substandard quality, don't you think you owe me something for my services?" he said, leaning in closer to her.

Blair plastered on her best 'I'm smiling but you know I'm faking it' smile, and sneered, "Of course, Chuck. You do deserve a reward."

She swooped her lips towards his, and watched as his eyes widened in surprise for a moment before closing in anticipation. Blair giggled to herself, and just before their lips touched she swung her free hang up to hit him on the head.

"Ouch, Waldorf! What happened to a reward?" Chuck half-yelped as he rubbed his head.

"The reward was that I didn't hit you in a place that would've hurt a lot more," Blair said, smiling towards him as she drank her martini like it was water.

"At least then I would finally have your hand on my --"

"Do not even think of finishing that sentence, Basshole," Blair interrupted. Surprisingly he listened, leaning back on the plush couch, smiling at her amenably. Satisfied with his concession, Blair relaxed backwards as well, her side coming flush against his as she watched the dancers on stage. A comfortable silence overtook them; both content to stare at the routine being repeated on stage and sip their drinks.

She was trying to ignore the heat emanating from where their bodies were pressed together. She was also failing. _This cannot be happening_, Blair thought to herself. Of all the things to feel in the world, why did she have to feel a magnetism to Chuck Bass of all people? Not only was he her boyfriend's best friend, but he was _him_. In her own often-used words, he was heinous. They were complete opposites. While he drowned himself in alcohol, drugs, and sex, she abstained. Well, she was drinking now, but unlike most of her friends, she had never tried drugs of any kind, and obviously did not have sex. Ever.

While she acknowledged the reasons why she _logically_ should not be attracted to Chuck, a part of her knew that feelings like this rarely conformed to the logical. Whether she liked it or not, it was there (whatever _it_ was, she didn't know). At this point, where all of this would lead, she didn't know. What she did know was that she was halfway to drunk-town, Nate wasn't here, and she wanted to have fun. She wanted to have fun. That came to the forefront of her medley of thoughts.

"This is boring," Blair said, breaking their silence. Finished the last of her unusually strong martini, Blair turned away from the half naked women on stage towards Chuck.

"Really? How so," Chuck asked, smirking at her out of the blue declaration.

"Well for one, you should hire better looking dancers," Blair chided. "Second, I'm a girl, and contrary to what you may have read in Penthouse, I don't actually enjoy watching other girls dance around in their underwear. And third, you're Chuck Bass, and if you can't show me a good time, I don't know who can."

"And what have you done tonight to deserve having a good time exactly?" Chuck asked with mock-seriousness. "All you've done is boss me around, and then hit me when I did what you asked."

"Oh please, like having me around, violent or not - "

"I'd say violent," Chuck said, earning him yet another slap on the arm.

"As I was saying," Blair continued, "Having me around has already made your night better. And believe me, the happier I am, the happier you'll be. But if you don't think I _deserve_ a night to forget…well, you can give it to me regardless. Just consider it my birthday gift," she finished, smiling at her own ability to compromise.

"Well, it would save me yet another trip to Tiffany's," Chuck said, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

Blair smiled in triumph, setting her empty glass down on the small table in front of them, and cautiously sliding her hand into his. _This is so cliché_, Blair thought to herself as she felt invisible bolts of electricity course through her hand. Still sitting, Blair flickered her eyes up towards his, holding his heated gaze as she sloppily rose from her seat. Face to face, Blair slipped her fingers in between his as he stared at her like…well she could honestly say she had never seen that expression on anyone's face before. Seeing her quick look of questioning, Chuck seemed to snap out of whatever daze had held him and clearing his throat unnecessarily, he turned towards the table to set his glass down.

"My limo's out back," Chuck said, tugging on her hand lightly to guide her through the mass of people.

Swaying slightly on her tipsy legs, Blair let Chuck pull her through the crowd towards a black door next to the stage. Chuck pulled it open, holding the door as his hand slipped from hers and came to rest on her waist in order to steady her as she passed him. Leaving him hand there, his arm wrapped around her lower back, they walked through the dimly lit hallway towards the bright green exit sign.

Exiting onto a small side street, Blair immediately spotted Chuck's limo a few yards away, and uncharacteristically skipped towards the door, dragging Chuck behind her.

"Eager, are we?" Chuck said, opening the door for her.

"Just drunk," Blair responded, enjoying the sound out his laughter as she entered the backseat, feeling him slide in behind her. After a few seconds of silence, Blair felt the limo begin to move.

"Where are we going for this night of birthday present fun?" Blair asked, spinning her body so her back was against the limo's side, and her legs resting on top of Chuck's.

Chuck was silent for a moment, letting his hands fall onto her sheer stockings, his thumb moving back and forth above her knee. Her heart was surely going to explode from beating this hard.

Chuck pursed his lips, and sliding down in his seat more he turned his head towards hers and said quietly, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

----------------

_A/N: So sorry it took me so long to update! I've been swamped lately, but I plan to spend a lot of time writing in the next few weeks, so hopefully I can get another chapter out before the New Year. Also, thank you soo much to **Princess Persephone** for your comments, they really helped me get this chapter finished!_

_Oh, and I'm not one of those authors who will wait for a certain amount of comments before putting a chapter up, but especially as a first time writer, your reviews help motivate me tremendously, so please take a couple minutes to let me know what you think! Happy Holidays Everyone!  
_


	5. December 17th, 2008: Part 2

_A/N: Talk about a fast update! Ok, so this chapter turned out **completely** different than I expected it to, but now that it's done, I'm very much in love with it. Also, thank you soo much to the people who reviewed the last chapter! (...in the last 24 hours, too!) Read on!!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"_I can see it all tonight,_

_Underneath a perfect sky._

_Where the universe revolves around_

_The pupil of an eye._

_And infinities stretch out_

_From infinities within._

_I'm a part of everything,_

_I'm a part of everything."_

_ -Dragonfly by M. Craft  
_

* * *

_-December 17__th__, 2008-_

It was much too bright.

Even with the dismal state of the weather, somehow Eric's window was determined to absorb as much sunlight as possible. Things just weren't going the way they should.

If the universe would only listen.

Eric turned on his side away from the offending light, glancing at his nightstand towards the clock that declared that it was 12:43 in the afternoon. So much for enjoying his vacation. Falling onto his back, Eric stared up at the ceiling, quietly cursing a God he didn't believe in for ruining everything. He should be out right now. If everything had gone how it should have he would be enjoying New York's priceless holiday atmosphere, but was instead waiting for a dreaded phone call from the Thai police informing him that they'd found his brother's body washed up in some dingy stream.

As if answering his plea for answers, Eric's phone buzzed once, signaling an incoming text. Reaching over quickly he flipped open his phone to reveal a message from someone else he'd thought had vanished into thin air.

_Lily got Chuck. In 1812 w/him._

_Hurry._

_-B_

But for a few seconds he didn't hurry. Part of him was morbidly surprised that Chuck had even made it back in one piece, and then his mind jumped to anger at the fact that his mother hadn't woken him up the moment she'd returned. Chuck was his _brother_. Maybe not by blood, but certainly in every way that mattered. Ever since Lily and Bart's courtship began, Chuck had taken the time to get to know him. Unlike Serena and his mother, Chuck didn't treat him like he was going to lunge for a kitchen knife at any moment. Instead he treated him like someone worthy of his time, and considering the preciousness of Chuck Bass's time, that was a major compliment. Eric had learned to trust him, much easier than he'd ever expected.

Due to that trust, Chuck had been the first person he came out too.

He'd never been so nervous in his life. That all ended when Chuck replied with a simple "I know," and then proceeded to pull out a couple of Cuban cigars and interrogate him about his sex life.

Somehow in the past year, Chuck had become his brother as well as his best friend, and surprisingly the sentiment was reciprocated. In the beginning, their friendship was superficial at best, with only a few rare moments where Chuck let him see past the walls. Though over the months it had evolved into a deeper camaraderie, it was only after Eric found Chuck after the White Party, drowning his sorrows in an entire bottle of rum, did he really see who Chuck Bass was.

To the world, Chuck was every parent's nightmare; the kind of teenager that inspired campaigns promoting GPS tracking for all people under the age of 18. And if Eric was honest, even after months of being friends with Chuck, he really didn't see any deviations from this label. Sure there were moments when Chuck would be unexpectedly compassionate, but those were few and far between.

But then he discovered that he didn't know Chuck nearly as well as he thought he did. In fact, it was safe to say that he didn't know him at all.

Eric had arrived at his grandmother's house after the White Party to find Chuck standing next to the pool, staring into the water as if all of his answers lay at the bottom. If there was ever a moment that Eric wished his eyes could take pictures, this was it. Then the whole world would finally understand, would finally be able to see. But eyes, unfortunately, do not possess this ability. Even so the image was burned into him mind, for the look on Chuck's face was one that Eric hoped would never grace his own.

It was _pain_; in it's purest form.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the explanation as to why his brother was so broken. Surveying the scene in front of him, Eric had expected to convince Chuck to not stand so close to the edge of the pool, after which Chuck would laugh off his inebriated state and assure Eric that he had imagined the facial expression in the first place. Then Chuck would try to convince him to chug the remaining contents of the bottle, and they would pass out in the lawn chairs.

Instead, as Eric grew closer, he became painfully aware that he had not imagined anything. Chuck turned to face him as he came upon the edge of the pool, and after failing to pretend to be happy, Chuck's face contorted even more. Though Eric had dealt with grief before, he quickly learned that Serena-grief and Chuck-grief were two very different things. Reaching forward to retrieve the bottle from Chuck's clenching fist, Eric set the rum down on the concrete, then turned back to help Chuck sit down by the edge of the pool.

Seeing that Chuck's shoes and socks had disappeared sometime earlier in the evening, Eric removed his as well. There they sat, silent, staring at the beautiful landscape with their feet hanging in the pool, the light of the moon dancing across the water's surface. He had spent much of that silent fifteen minutes arguing with himself about how to approach the inevitable conversation. He didn't know how to handle Chuck in this condition. What should he ask him? How do you comfort someone like Chuck Bass?

"What happened?" Eric asked, breaking the silence. That seemed like a good place to start. Then he could assess the situation, and fix it. Then Chuck would be better. Somehow, before he heard the next word out of Chuck's mouth, he'd really believed that his plan would work.

"Blair," Chuck said, so quietly that if it hadn't been so strange to hear from Chuck's mouth, he wouldn't have heard it at all.

"Did you guys have a fight again, or…" Eric trailed off, truly at a loss to how Blair Waldorf could have caused Chuck so much pain.

Chuck shook his head in dissent and continued staring off into the abyss. Guessing that the conversation had ended for the time being, Eric's thoughts whirled in confusion. Of all the people that could break Chuck Bass, he would have bet his entire fortune that Blair would be the last person capable of that task. And vise versa. That was their "thing". They were the strong ones of the group; the ones that you would have to crush with a mountain to get them to lose. In some ways it _kind_ of made sense…well…no, it really didn't. There was no denying that Eric was completely lost. Turning slightly towards Chuck and opening his mouth again, preparing to ask how in the _hell_ Blair had managed to make him feel so bad, Eric was cut off. His mouth stayed open, due to shock, and a loss of mobile abilities when he heard Chuck's statement.

"Blair and I have been sleeping together," Chuck breathed out, and with those words allowing Eric to be the second person to _see_ him.

The walls, and barricades, and missiles protecting Chuck from the world fell away, and with it Eric's judgment. His immediate reaction, thankfully only expressed in his head, had been _What?!_. Chuck could have told him that every country in the world was launching their nuclear missiles and the world was going to end, and he would have been less surprised. But at seeing the relief and left over heartache on Chuck's face, he knew that flipping out was not the right answer. Instead he pushed aside his shock, and reverted back to his original question.

"What happened?" Eric repeated acceptingly. Chuck looked unsurprised at Eric's response, and after taking a deep breathe, began to speak again.

"It happened the first time the night before her seventeenth birthday; the night of Victrola's opening. We were both drunk out of our minds, and agreed in the morning that it was just one night, an accident – but then the next night it happened again. And, it just…got out of hand after that." Chuck said with a shaky voice, wringing his hands together as he got lost in memory.

"At some point it became more than a bunch of accidents," Chuck continued, lifting his feet from the water in order to turn more towards Eric.

"And when did it get this bad?" Eric asked, now flipping through all of the interactions between them he had seen in the past year, looking for some kind of warning. Chuck cracked a miniscule smile at Eric's words, though that was quickly replaced by a grimace.

"We…were confused for a long time. I didn't know what I was feeling, and she could identify her feelings, but was hell bent on suppressing them. So we fought and said horrid things to each other and then barely spoke for three months. But at the wedding, I just…wanted to stop pretending that it didn't matter; that it was all just a mistake. I wanted her, and I didn't want anyone else to have her," Chuck said, clearly forcing himself not to completely fall apart.

"You mean Nate?" Eric asked, finally putting the pieces together of a puzzle he didn't know even existed an hour ago.

"She broke up with him after the wedding, and a week later we were going to go to Europe, but…I fucked everything up," Chuck said, hanging his head. "I psyched myself out, thinking that if she spent the summer with me she'd regret it. That once we came back everything between us would be over, and on top of that we'd no longer have any friends. So I let her go."

Eric's mind was trying desperately to comprehend all of this new information, but he was having trouble. It's not everyday that you find out your whole world is literally hanging by a thread. Because if there was one thing that Eric was sure of, it was that if anyone but him found out about this, everything would fall apart. Turning towards Chuck, he now had a fairly good hypothesis as to why Chuck was now falling apart. Serena had told him of Blair and Nate's reconciliation on Bastille Day in Paris, and at the time he held nothing but elation for the pair. Now however, he wished he could go back and hit himself on the head.

"And now she's back with Nate," Eric finished for him, and seeing Chuck nod, he continued, "Chuck…I don't really know how to ask you this so that you'll actually answer, but why don't you want her with Nate?" he questioned.

Seeing the incredulous look on Chuck's face, Eric expanded, "I mean, I get that you wanted her, but I'd think that you'd also want her to be happy. And I think Blair is most happy when she's with someone who loves her."

"I talked to her today, at the White Party," Chuck said, seeming to ignore everything Eric had just said. "All I had to do was tell her how I felt, and she'd forgive me."

Eric's eyes widened, and suddenly he understood why they would risk everything in the first place. That it may have started out with a drunken night, but now was to the point of having heartbreaking conversations at social events. The fact that the participants were Chuck and Blair was still a bit mind boggling, but none the less. Chuck didn't seem to be talking for his benefit anymore, instead seemed to be voicing his thoughts in order to make sure they were true.

"That was all I had to do. Three words, eight letters. That's all that stood between me and her, and I couldn't say it."

"Do you? You know…love her?" Eric asked curiously, expecting Chuck to immediately deny the question. Instead Chuck stayed silent, and a surprised Eric understood that this was Chuck's way of saying "yes".

Eric leaned back a bit, whispering a quiet "Wow," into the night. They didn't speak anymore. The wind picked up and carried the early leaves of autumn across the setting, some landing on the surface of the water, floating along like lifeboats in the sea.

Looking back, Eric finds it easy to identify all the looks that passed between Chuck and Blair, all the times that should have alarmed everyone around them to the fact that they _loved_ each other. He still finds it amazing that everyone could be so blind. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Eric is pulled into the present by the sound of Serena's voice yelling outside of his door. At first he jumps out of bed, ready to go on the offensive against whatever she was mad about, but then hears the equally loud voice of his mother and rightly concludes that this is yet another episode of _Serena vs. Lily: Round 527_.

Grabbing his phone, Eric quickly pulled on a t-shirt, not bothering to change from his pajama pants, and ran quickly through the war zone stationed outside his door.

Practically flying down the stairs, and vaguely hearing his mothers voice asking him where he was going, Eric dialed the number of the Van der Woodsen's car service, and in a sharper than normal tone told the driver he had to be at the Palace Hotel as soon as possible. Running through the building's lobby, he was garnering quite a few curious looks due to his pajama pants and flip-flops, but thankfully he didn't run into anyone from school, instead arriving outside right as the family's car was pulling up.

Jumping in the back seat, Eric allowed himself to relax for a moment as the driver weaved through the mass of cars clogging Park Ave. Leaning his head back and letting out a deep sigh, his mind was buzzing with the possibilities of Chuck's condition. Obviously it couldn't be too bad, as he assumed that he had been the only one Blair contacted, but surely it wasn't all good news or she probably wouldn't have asked for his help at all. Over the past month or so, Blair and him had grown much closer, mostly due to that fact that he was the only one that _knew_.

In some ways he hated Chuck for telling him. If he had stayed with Jenny the night of the White Party, then he would be just as happily oblivious as everyone else. He wouldn't have to worry that he would slip up in front of the wrong person. He wouldn't have to be burdened by the weight of their secret every second of every day. Truthfully though, this hate only flared up once in a blue moon, reaching peak in moments when he saw everyone walking blindly, and he was unable to tell them to simply open their eyes. In those moments he wished his eyes were closed as well, but in times like these he couldn't help but be eternally grateful that Chuck had been drunk enough to tell him about Blair. He had since seen a side of Blair he had never experienced before, and much like Chuck was by the pool, she was inconceivably deeper than he'd ever imagined.

Though Chuck had informed him that he and Blair had decided to "wait" (whatever that meant), Eric knew that no matter what they called it, they were each other's in a way that he didn't quite understand, but was happy to know existed. He was glad that if either Blair or Chuck needed someone to talk to, they had him.

Honestly, with the amount of late night phone calls he received from each of them, he really didn't know how they coped before he knew.

Feeling the car pull to a stop in front of the stone courtyard of _The Palace_, Eric shot a quick "Thanks" to the driver before hurrying towards the warmth of the lobby. Somehow attaining an elevator to himself, Eric leaned back against the mirrored walls, urging the lift to go faster. He was getting really nervous now.

Finally the elevator reached it's destination floor and Eric exited, swiftly walking towards Chuck's suite. Lightly knocking on the door, Eric waited for a moment before trying again, the wood echoing a bit louder this time. Nothing. Trying to calm himself from the horrible scenarios floating around in his mind by this point, he yet again reached up, only to be deterred by the swinging motion of the door.

He had never seen Blair look so frail.

Standing in front of him was the shadow of the Queen of Constance. Tear tracks lined her cheeks and her hair limply framed her face, dull and knotted. She looked so tiny standing beneath the wide frame of the door.

"You're here," Blair stated, giving him a tired smile while stepping aside for him to enter the dark room.

Eric looked around at the stale furniture before turning to face Blair who was currently going through her coat pockets, and after a moment pulling out her phone. Turning towards him, her voice seemed to gain back some bite, for the moment, as she said, "I need you to call Dr. Weber and have him put in an emergency prescription for anti-nausea and cysteine pills. Have the pharmacy deliver the prescription within the hour, no matter the cost. Then I need you to call Nate and find some way to stop him from coming here, go buy a few bottles of that enriched water and some Ibuprofen from the gift shop, and order some toast in case Chuck feels like eating something, okay?" thrusting her open phone towards him, the number of the Bass's discreet doctor already dialed. Eric reached out for the phone before looking back at Blair.

"Is he going to be alright?" Eric choked out, trying to stop himself from shaking. Blair's eyes filled readily with bright tears at his question, and she reach out to grab his trembling hands; whether for his comfort or hers, he didn't know.

"He has to be," Blair said, her lips turning up into a weak smile. Rolling her eyes quickly, and wiping a stray tear from her face, she joked, "He'll fell a whole lot better once he doesn't smell like an alleyway."

Smiling slightly at her remark, he gave her hand a squeeze before watching her walk through the bedroom and into the attached bathroom. Hearing the sound of the shower turning on, Eric blinked away his tears and took a seat on the stiff couch. Pressing the 'Call' button on Blair's phone, he brought the phone to his ear, preparing to speak to this mysterious Dr. Weber. Thankfully, Dr. Weber was paid well enough by the Bass family that Eric only had to recite the medications Blair had requested, and the doctor replied helpfully, "Anything for Chuck Bass. I'll let the pharmacy know to deliver the prescriptions to the Palace right away."

"Thank you," Eric said, hanging up the phone and placing it on the small coffee table in front of him. Reaching into his pocket, Eric set out to complete Blair's second task, coming up with a simple solution to the Nate problem. Typing in a quick text message, Eric had no doubt that the contents would be convincing enough to keep Nate away for the time being.

_Serena and lily had another blowout._

_Me and blair have chuck taken care_

_of. Can you stay with serena tonight?_

_-E_

Pressing send, Eric headed out of the suite, grabbing the key card that lay forgotten near the door. Exiting into the hallway and heading for the _Palace_ kitchen, Eric breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of Chuck's confirmed safety.

The past few weeks had been hell.

Constantly worrying about where Chuck was, who he was with, how much he was drinking, what drugs he was taking, everyday, every minute. It was exhausting, and yet he couldn't even imagine the distress that Blair had felt. Eric had never been in love.

Looking at Chuck and Blair, he had a feeling that even if he had been in love he still wouldn't even begin to understand how they feel. Because though his mother has apparently been in love with Rufus Humphrey for twenty years, he really didn't believe that whatever she felt for Rufus was anything close to what Chuck and Blair felt for each other. Lily and Rufus were apart for fifteen years. Blair and Chuck can barely stand being apart for fifteen days. And look what fifteen days has done to them. Feeling a buzz in his pocket, Eric pulled out his phone to read Nate's reply as he waited for the _Palace_ staff to return with the Ibuprofen and toast.

_Sounds good. Btw, _

_say 'hi' 2 chuck 4 me._

_Ttyl_

_-N_

Rolling his eyes at Nate's frequent use of numbers in replacement for actual words, Eric pat himself on the back for a job well done. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Eric smiled and thanked the employee who brought his try laden with four un-buttered pieces of toast, three bottles of enriched water, and two tablets of Ibuprofen. Reminding the staff member to have Chuck Bass's prescription delivered to 1812 as soon as they received it, Eric turned away and headed back towards the elevator. Balancing the tray on one hand, he reached out to press the 'Up' button, staring at himself in the reflection of the elevator's golden doors as he waited. He didn't look nearly as bad as Blair did. And if Blair looked that bad – Blair, who didn't consume large quantities of illicit substances in the past two weeks – then what would Chuck look like?

Eric prayed to whatever God would listen (Zeus, Ra, Buddha, _God_ God; anyone, really) that Chuck would be okay. No, better than okay. _Wonderful_. Though he had never seen Chuck feel 'wonderful' before, he hoped that it was possible, and wished with all his might that everything would work out one way or another. Because really, it didn't seem fair. So, no, Chuck was not the nicest nor most generous person in the world, but that certainly didn't mean he deserved to rot in the ground. Chuck was loyal, more than anyone he'd ever met, and he would do anything to protect those he cared about.

It has been a trade off. His knowledge of Chuck's softer side, his knowledge of a Blair that existed without her shield. These things disconnected him. From his sister, from Jenny, certainly from Nate. Because try as he might, he can't hate Chuck and Blair for potentially ruining everyone's perfect little world. Maybe in the few seconds after Chuck first revealed the relationship to him, before he was aware of the depth of Chuck's feelings for Blair. But now, seeing everything he's seen, hearing everything he's heard, he can't help but want to transport them into a world where no one would blink twice at their union.

Sliding the key card into it's slot, Eric once again entered the dank environment of 1812. He could no longer hear the shower running, and quietly tiptoed through the silent room to set the try down onto the coffee table. Dropping the key gently beside the silver tray, Eric stepped curiously towards the half open, double doors of the bedroom.

Hearing no movement or voices, Eric slid quietly into the near pitch-black room to find a sight that brought a new flow of tears to his eyes. Stepping a foot closer, Eric observed the gentle breathing of Chuck and Blair, who were curled around each other on top of the covers, a thin blanket thrown hastily over their forms. Even in the dark, Eric could see the sallow coloring that seemed to tint both of their complexions. He could make out an outline of their faces; turned towards each other, foreheads and noses meeting in the middle. Their hands were intertwined, as were their legs.

He wasn't quite sure why he was crying, but without his permission tears were spilling from his eyes, his throat was tightening in effort to control the unexpected bout of emotion.

In his short life, he did not witness love very often. Whether it be romantic, familial, or otherwise, love was a phantom idea in his world. Every once in a while Lily would grow particularly maternal, but for the most part her love was expressed in dollars rather than in hugs. Serena and him had grown apart in this past year, and everywhere he looked people in love were falling apart.

Serena "loved" Dan. Then they broke up. Then they got back together. Then they broke up again. And earlier today, on his way out of the house, Eric had heard her shouting at Lily that her and Dan wanted to be together, and "Why can't you respect that!" But now, walking into a room filled to the brim with memories of pain, he saw quite the opposite.

He knew Blair and Chuck loved each other. He hadn't doubted Chuck's feelings once since he found out, and quickly realized that they were reciprocated. And while he knew that, he really didn't separate them from everyone else. They were just two people, just like Serena and Dan, just like Lily and her numerous husbands. They were just two more people. But once again, he was face to face with the fact that he just didn't understand. And once again he was faced with raw emotion presented to him by Chuck and Blair. From this day on he would never doubt the existence of that phantom feeling, for he was seeing it with his own two eyes.

It was _love_; in it's purest form.

* * *

_A/N: Just a quick note, the medicine that Blair asked Eric to get from the doctor (cysteine) helps prevent liver damage from consuming too much alcohol (thank you Google). Oh, also, I changed the summary, as well as the chapter names (from here on out they will all be dates to make it easier to figure out when the chapters take place). And as always, review!!_


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